Enjoy the Silence

The driving beat of Depeche Mode echoed around my car and on out through the Drury Street Multi Storey car park in Dublin city. The perversely titled'Enjoy the Silence'thundering through my head as I waited to find out who, or what, she was doing in the Brooks Hotel across the road. From my vantage point in the car park, I could clearly see the main doors of the hotel, one floor below, as I sat in my car.

It was over an hour since I had left the meeting I was attending in the administration offices of the College of Surgeons on St. Stephen's Green. I had walked around the corner to collect my car, which was parked in York Street, when I spotted my wife, Caitríona, scurrying across the road, less than a hundred metres away from me, at the junction of York and Mercer Streets. She was wearing heels, a red overcoat that hugged her body like a second skin and left little to the imagination and gave a glimpse of a short black skirt or dress when the breeze caught the hem of it and lifted it periodically as she walked.

Her dark hair flowed gracefully around her shoulders as she hurried along the street and her demeanour suggested a controlled pace that her gait didn't correspond with. She'd obviously spent a lot of time making herself look beautiful and she cut a figure of incongruity as the manner of her dress was completely at odds with the grey afternoon of a dreary Tuesday evening in Dublin City centre.

Leaving my car in place, I decided to follow along behind her, allowing her to cross the road fully before running to the corner to see where she was heading. I hung back a little, the red coat a beacon that was clearly visible through the greyness of the throng of people between us as everybody went about their usual humdrum daily business.

She carried on down Johnson's Place, taking the bend in the road at Stephen's Street before pausing at the corner of Drury Street to search in her large black designer bag for a makeup mirror to check her face before turning down Drury Street and walking confidently to the entrance of the hotel, exchanging a nod, a smile, and a greeting that I couldn't hear, with the Doorman, who doffed his top hat to her, as though they were old acquaintances.

I returned to my car and drove it the short distance to the car park, pausing before I turned in to the low slung maw that was the entrance to risk a quick peek inside the glass double doors. She was texting on her phone and too engrossed to check whether she was being watched or not. A pause in the movements of her fingers, followed by a satisfied smile. preceded an almost skittish lift of her heels as she strode out of sight in the direction of the hotel reception desk.

I collected my ticket from the electronic station and drove to the relatively unoccupied Level 1 of the building. I parked right beside a large opening in the concrete structure that contained a black wrought iron curtain that was more aesthetic than functional. The light breeze howled through it but it afforded a perfect view of the door, which is what I required. I checked my watch in the fading light. It was 4:45 in the evening so I selected a Spotify Playlist and sat back to wait and think.

A sudden blaze of light from a window on the floor above me and three windows to the right, suddenly caught my attention. Although it was a little to one side, I could clearly see Caitríona as she gazed out the window, searching the street below for something or someone. I snapped a few pictures of her as she looked out the window. I saw her texting again and got an idea. I dialled her number, curious to see whether she'd answer it or just ignore the call. She peered at her phone for a second or two before placing it against her ear.

"Hi, Chris," she said, almost sounding happy that I had called.

"Hi, Cat," I said, keeping my voice as light as possible.

"I'm afraid it's another late one this evening," she said before I could say anything. "Henry wants to brainstorm a proposal for a new client. It'll probably be nine or ten before I get home."

"There's a lot of that happening lately, Cat," I said, "I hope they're paying you well for it. What about dinner?"

"I'll pick up a pizza or something," she said. "You go ahead and eat without me."

"I'm not home yet," I said. "My meeting in the College of Surgeons ran on and I'm only getting out now. I was hoping I might catch you in town, it's only around the corner in York Street."

"Oh," she said, a little unsure. "I'd have loved that, Chris, but this is heavy."

"No worries, I might try Amy Austin's," I said. "It's there in Drury Street opposite that hotel. I'm not really in the mood for cooking anything tonight. You get a pizza for yourself if you want and I'll see you later, will it be 10:00 again?"

"Most likely," she said, something approaching doubt in her tone as her head swivelled each way, scanning the street below.

I cut the call without a word and placed the phone down on the console. It rang almost immediately.

"Twice in one week?" I said.

"What?" Caitríona asked, confused.

"I can't remember the last time we spoke more than once in a day," I said.

"You hung up on me," she whined.

"Were you not finished?" I said. "Sorry about that."

"Yes, I was," she said quietly.

"I think I probably am too," I said and hung up again.

I pulled out my diary and scanned through the pages. The first time she'd called to say she'd be late had been about ten weeks previously. It was a Tuesday evening and it wasn't all that noteworthy. The second time was the following week. It was the beginning of a pattern so I noted it in my book. Following a short gap It repeated every week since then, some on Wednesdays but the majority were Tuesdays. On each occasion she arrived home between 9:45 and 10:05.

It was only 6:00 and I didn't fancy sitting in a car park until what I calculated would be 9:00, so I reckoned it might be better to leave and return to my position at that time. It was only a twenty minute taxi ride home so I felt that her little 'meeting' would end by 9:30 or so. I called my business partner, Jake Scully, to report in. He answered on the third ring. It sounded like he was out for a run.

"Hey Jake, are you out jogging?" I said. "I think the point of that diet is to ease off the drink and the burgers, are you not afraid you might take a stroke with all that exercise?"

"Are you trying to be funny again?" he said. "How did the meeting go today?"

"Very good, they're thinking of an entire HVAC system for the lecture room floor with a direct extraction and filtration system incorporated for the kitchens, storerooms and bathrooms."

"Can you do that, Chris?"

"It'll take some time to design, but it can be done," I said.

"Where did they get this idea from?" he asked.

"I planted it in their heads at the meeting."

"Price it out first," he said.

"It needs to be designed before we go off half cocked, Jake," I said.

"Well you're the engineer, Chris."

"So you keep telling me," I said.

We hung up. As I put my phone down and began to exit the car park it occurred to me that I seemed to have shouldered the greater burden during this partnership. Long hours spent slaving over a drawing board and in front of AutoCAD, a calculator, and books of formulas my constant companions, had focused my mind in a direction that wasn't healthy. I had then assumed some of the responsibility for the financial side of the business, something that was supposedly the purview of my partner, Jake, whose primary focus was on sales and making the company profitable enough to take it public.

I drove towards home, my thoughts a veritable zoo. There were so many questions circling my brain that I thought it was going to melt down. Several times I almost rear ended the car in front of me of me, so I thought it best to stop somewhere, get something to eat and clear my thoughts of work matters instead.

I found a parking spot outside the Glimmer Man Pub in Stoneybatter and walked inside to the bar, taking an empty table in a corner just inside the door. I ordered a pint and a roast chicken sandwich as I perused my phone for clues. There was nothing suspicious and, for a brief few minutes, I thought I was being unfair in the assumptions I'd made without very much hard evidence.

I drank my pint slowly, but devoured the sandwich which, after a brief moment of regret, I followed with a bowl of vegetable soup. I sipped my pint to the bottom of the glass, still deep in thought, before checking the time on the clock behind the bar. It was time to return to Drury Street to face my future. I paid my bill and left the pub, drove back to where I'd come from and parked in a similar space on the next floor of the, now busier, car park.

My position still afforded me a decent view of the hotel but I needed to get out of the car to gain a good view of the entrance. I pulled my jacket tight around me to ward off the cold breeze and huddled in the corner against a wall, my eyes firmly fixed on the glass doors of the hotel, my phone open at the camera App ready to record whatever I could.

I was there for almost thirty minutes when I saw her emerge. I almost missed her as she had changed into a short navy blue Windcheater and a pair of tight jeans. I photographed her as she stood outside and looked back through the hotel doors, waiting for someone to join her. She held out her hand, waving it as a child would when offering it to a parent before crossing the street. A male hand reached to take it and he stepped outside to embrace her as they kissed passionately, his hand slowly stroking her bum as they appeared to attempt to strangle each other with their tongues.

I must have taken a hundred pictures as I stood there, my mouth set in a grim mask as I saw who she was kissing. Jake fucking Scully. My alleged best friend and business partner. A taxi pulled to the kerb and they kissed goodbye before she jumped in the back seat. He watched as the cab sped away, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and dialled a number as I watched. My phone rang immediately. He wouldn't dare!

"Jake," I said without inflection.

"Chris? Are you ok?" he asked.

"Just tired," I said. "What do you fucking want at this hour?"

"Have you pissed on a nettle of something?" he laughed.

"What do you want, Jake?" I said.

"What the fuck is up your arse tonight?"

I hung the phone up and took his picture as he stared at the device in his hand and ran his hand through his hair. I walked to my car, started it up and drove out of the car park, driving past him as he remained frozen outside the hotel, debating whether to call me back or fuck off home. That gave me an idea. I turned left instead of right at the Fade Street junction with George's Street and drove out to Dartry. I knocked on the door of the large semi-detached Victorian house and was greeted by Emma, Jake's wife of less than a year.

"Chris!" she said, surprised to see me at the door. "Come in out of the cold, you look like you're freezing to death."

"Hi Emma," I said, stepping inside the house. "I just dropped in on the off chance to see if I could get the financials. It's for our PLC registration, the company formations office needs them."

"Jake isn't here," she said, "I thought he said he'd be with you this evening."

"No, I haven't seen him since last Friday."

"I don't know what he gets up to sometimes," she said.

"Maybe he has a bit on the side," I said with a laugh.

"Why, have you got a bit on the side, Chris?" she squealed with laughter.

"It's that long since I got a bit, Emma, that I didn't know they'd moved it," I said and she doubled up laughing before slapping my arm.

"How is Cat? I haven't seen her for a while."

"She seems busy," I said, "what about you?"

"I'm just a boring housewife these days, Chris."

"You didn't go back to work after the wedding?" I asked.

"No," she said with a hint of irritation, "Jake won't allow it."

"Why not?" I said. "You had a good job didn't you?"

"Yes, I was also up for promotion," she said. "He just said no and I don't know why."

"Do you want me to have a word with him?"

"No, you know what he's like, Chris," she said.

"I thought I did, but do we ever really know anyone?" I said.

She looked sad and was obviously lonely. My heart went out to her and she accepted my hug gratefully.

"I'd better collect these files, Emma," I said, "I'll be up all night otherwise."

I detected a tear in her eye as we parted and I waited in the hall as she walked away from me to get what I needed. She returned a few minutes later carrying three thick folders and a little bag of thumb drives. She handed them to me wordlessly, her pretty face ashen as she forced a smile that she didn't feel.

"Thanks for the hug, Chris, I'm sorry for unloading my troubles on you like that," she said quietly. "It'll all be better after this IPO goes through. Are you going to London with him for the presentation next week?"

"Probably," I said, "if I'm asked."

"Do you need to be asked?" she said. "You're a partner in the firm aren't you?"

"I didn't know anything about it until you just mentioned it, Emma," I said. "I'll talk to him about it in the morning. I think Cat has a couple of days off this week, why don't you drop in and have a bitching session with her, it'll do you the world of good."

"I might just do that, Chris, I'll give her a call."

I hugged her again and left for home, arriving there two hours later having stopped off in the Halfway House for a few pints and an hour of mutual bonding with some friends at the bar. When I got back to my car I picked up my phone from the glove compartment, where I'd left it to charge. I had eighteen missed calls and double the amount of texts, mostly from my wife and a few from Jake. I ignored them all and it occurred to me that I should change my pin, given the recent photos I'd taken. I opened it up and saved them all to my Cloud account, just in case.

When I got home Caitríona was already in bed. I decided not to disturb her and I used the bed in the ground floor guest bedroom instead. I was drowsy because of the few pints I'd had and I slept easily, if a little fitfully, until 6:30, when I was awoken by the sound of movement coming from the kitchen. I needed to use the bathroom and made plenty of noise as I did so. I dressed in the previous day's clothes and went in search of coffee. She was at the kitchen sink and I found it hard to even look at her.

"Chris?" she said with a quiet voice.

"Not now, Cat," I said, pouring coffee into a mug.

"Did I do something to annoy you?"

I ignored her and walked out of the kitchen, returning to my bedroom where I lit up a cigarette to annoy her.

"Why did you sleep down here last night?" she asked from the door of the room.

"I was late," I said, "I didn't want to wake you."

"Where were you?" she asked.

"The Halfway House."

"Did you not have your phone with you?" she asked.

"No."

"Did you not get my messages?"

"I saw them," I said.

"And it didn't occur to you to reply to one of them?"

"No, why? Is it a big deal? You don't reply to many of mine or answer many of my calls," I said. "I didn't think it was such a big deal all of a sudden."

"I was worried about you," she said, making a move towards me.

"Whatever," I said and held up my hand to stop her as she stopped dead with a look of fear in her eyes. "I need a shower."

"Have you started smoking again?" she said.

"What makes you think that?"

"There's a fucking lit cigarette in your hand, Chris, what the fuck is going on with you?" she asked. "You're smokinganddrinking again? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Leave me alone," I said. "I'll do whatever I want."

"But you promised me you'd given that up for good," she said.

"I promised," I said ironically, walking past her on my way upstairs. "Is that still a thing? Are you going to work today?"

"Yes, can you drop me off in town?"

"No. I'm working from home today."

"I'll get a taxi then. By the way, I might have to go to London for a couple of days next week, I'll let you know when it's confirmed," she said.

I felt something grab my insides and twist them as she spoke. I said nothing and walked away from her. I needed to make a plan of some kind and I needed to distance myself from her in case I blew up and fucked myself in the process. For now, though, I decided to go for a long run in order to get out of the house until she left for work, or whatever she had planned for herself that day. The rhythm of the exercise would calm me and aid my thought processes. I quickly changed into my running gear and left the house five minutes later, leaving her to her own devices.

I ran for over two hours. It wasn't a fast pace but the repetitive leg and arm movements helped to focus my mind. There were many strands involved in the fabrication of this complicated situation, not least the impending IPO. Four lives were going to feel a colossal effect and none of us was coming out on the winning side so, in essence it had to be every man for himself. I wanted to find out how long this had been going on between my wife and my business partner, how it started, who made the first move and under what circumstances. I was convinced that Emma was as clueless as I had been. Should I ask if she had any suspicions or should I just tell her what I knew so far? Should I leave well enough alone? My marriage was only about six months longer than hers and neither of us were still in the first bloom of romantic idealism. The hardest thing to endure was the betrayal and the lies once I got past the image my head had conjured up of them actually fucking each other.

Maybe a video of them in the act would help to dissolve that piece of mental torture, but I couldn't see how I could organise that without asking them to perform for it on camera. I really needed to get into both of their financials to see if I could discover anything and it was this that drove me on as I turned the corner for home, arriving on the road to our house at the very moment that she was getting into the cab. She waved at me as I passed but I had my head down and ignored it completely. I needed to find a way to engage with her in a less antagonistic fashion and I resolved to work that out too. I showered thoroughly, dressed, and set to work over a pot of tea and a pile of toast.

My first port of call was the accounts. The files covered all three years of the company's existence. There was one folder and one thumb drive for each year. My priority was, initially, to search for patterns, so I inserted the drive for the current year into the port on my computer and clicked it open. The first giveaway was a series of recurring weekly invoices from The MHL group, owner operators of Brooks Hotel. There were eight consecutive invoices with a BH before a series of six numbers. I assumed that these were for the room at Brooks Hotel. A further six had the letters IC or WH before them and the first had the initials GLENA before the consecutive numbers. I noted these in the blank pad I had beside me and totalled the charges out at €39,960.

I then looked for other unusual entries, there was one for the following week that was a holding charge on the company credit card of STG£4,000 at the Four Seasons Park Lane Hotel in London. The booking was for two nights in the following week. I noted that down and then opened the MHL Collection website. MHL had thirteen properties across Ireland and the names of four of them, the Brooks, Inter Continental, Westin, and Glenlo Abbey Hotel matched the initials on the invoices.

I dug out the company diaries and matched the date of the first one to a conference in Glenlo Abbey almost four months previously. It was a workshop given by the Company Formations office that focused on IPOs and the quickest way to get it on the market. Jake had attended that alone since I had too much real work on my plate at the time and, according to the diary, I had been in Düsseldorf managing the installation of a production line that assembled triple glazed units using tempered glass, a difficult project that had many strands to make it work successfully. This meant that the affair had started before then.